


Prescience

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, First Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 00:31:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair finally catches on. (I'm not good at summaries)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prescience

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, just incase anyone has happened to notice - Yes, I've been to Cloud Mountain and yes, I've stol- uhh...borrowed a few of those interesting little bottles. (I left Concupiscence for the boys -- for the time being) I hope nobody minds.

## Prescience

by Sheryl

* * *

Prescience  
by Sheryl 

A strange, yet familiar sense of awareness slowly crept up on him and he realized that the air he was breathing seemed unusually heavy and thick; he could hear himself panting loudly, harshly. All around him, sounds and imagery suddenly began snapping into focus; everything became clearer, sharper. The jungle; he was back in the jungle. He was one with the black jaguar and he found himself running swiftly through the dense, lush greenery. Ahead of him, just beyond his reach, the gray wolf leapt over a fallen tree; without thinking, he simply followed. 

He tried to call out to the wolf with a loud, resonating roar. The wolf faltered momentarily and glanced back, but immediately resumed the pace. 

As he continued his pursuit, sunlight began filtering through the treetops and he realized that they were coming to a clearing. He thought that he had been able to hear another heartbeat, but now that the trees and plants were beginning to disperse, he was able to see that ahead of the gray wolf was another wolf -- with more of a reddish coloring. 

The red wolf, continued running until it came to the clearing, where it slowed; it paused waiting for something. It tilted its head and looked meaningfully at the gray wolf, who was standing at the edge of the clearing. 

The jaguar slowed, slinking gracefully toward his companion. He felt a tingling sensation as the hairs on his feline back raised -- a warning mechanism, an automatic response to the possibility of danger -- danger to his Guide. 

As he drew closer, he was able to detect the sound of additional heartbeats and when he looked past the two wolves, into the clearing, he saw a gathering of several wolves, an entire pack, anxiously pacing, seeming impatient as they watched the red wolf. 

The gray wolf tilted its head, seemingly puzzled as it studied the other wolf and then it whined, a mournful sound, and turned away from the red wolf. With its head lowered, the gray wolf retreated, returning to the place he belonged -- beside the black jaguar, the guardian, the Sentinel. 

The red wolf lifted its head skyward and let out a long, echoing howl that almost instantly became an eerie chorus, as the rest of the pack joined in. When it was over, the red wolf, along with the others, dashed away in the opposite direction, heading back to the cover of the jungle. 

Beside the jaguar, the gray wolf watched sadly as the others disappeared into the greenery. When they were gone, he turned to the jaguar and nuzzled against him. The jaguar purred, a deep rumbling sound of contentment. 

~*~ 

Jim Ellison was jolted awake by the loud buzzing of his alarm clock. "Shit!" He hated that! Reaching over to the bedside stand, he pushed a button and the annoying sound was halted. With a yawn, he rolled out of bed, stretched and then headed down the stairs. 

The loft was quiet, his partner apparently still asleep. Jim put the coffee on and tapped on the French door before opening it. "Sandburg, rise and shine." 

"Go 'way." The mound beneath the blankets shifted, drawing the comforter completely overhead. 

Not one to be easily discouraged, Jim stepped into the room, grabbed the blankets, and pulled them to the foot of the bed. "C'mon Chief." 

"Ji-im!" The younger man scowled blearily at him through a mass of curls. "Cut it out!" 

"Get up, Sandburg!" 

"Sheesh! All I ask is for five minutes! Can't a guy get an extra five minutes of sleep around here, _ever_?" Rubbing his eyes, he pushed himself up and out of bed. "I'm up, I'm up," he mumbled flashing a sleepy smile as he trudged past 'Drill Sergeant Jim' on his way to the bathroom. He jumped at the ringing of the telephone, but didn't bother to answer it. "Jim...phone. This early, it must be one of your friends." 

~*~ 

"Simon wants us in A.S.A.P," Jim informed as Blair exited the steamy bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. "You'd better have left me some hot water, junior." 

"Of course I did, Jim. Don't I always?" Blair replied, batting his eyelashes and looking the picture of innocence. 

"Uh-huh. Right." In what seemed like one swift move, Jim grabbed the towel from around his waist, snapped him in the rear with it and then tossed it back to him as he headed for the bathroom. 

"Woohoo," Blair laughed. "Covert Ops?" 

"Yup. I know a hundred and one ways to kill a man with a bath towel, smart ass," Jim warned, not able to contain his grin. "We got a meeting with the Feds, so hurry up." 

"Oh great," Blair groaned, rolling his eyes. He stopped on the way to his room, to pour himself a cup of coffee. "Meetings with the Feds are soooo not my idea of a good way to start the week." 

Jim, already under the warm spray of the shower, nodded his agreement as he began soaping up. 

~*~ 

It was twenty minutes past seven when Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg entered the office of Captain Simon Banks. Two crisply dressed men, obviously federal agents, were seated in front of the captain's desk and stood in acknowledgment as Jim and Blair walked in. 

"Detective Ellison," Simon began, "this is Agent Stone and Agent Siglin." The two agents shook hands with the detective. 

"This is my partner, Detective Sandburg," Jim introduced and couldn't help but notice, much to his unease, that the two agents seemed to be particularly interested in his Guide. 

A few minutes later they were all seated around the captain's desk and the older looking of the two agents, Agent Stone, slipped a manila folder from his briefcase. "For the past several years, we've been investigating the activities of a potentially subversive activist group. The group started out relatively small in the early seventies, but today its numbers have increased significantly. Up until now we've been unable to link them to any specific criminal activity. The group calls itself Beings of Light," the agent paused, lifting an eyebrow and staring directly at Sandburg. "Ever heard of that group before, Mr. Sandburg?" 

Blair blinked his eyes and sat up straight in his chair. "Uhh...no. No, I haven't." 

"That's funny," the agent said as he thumbed through his file, "considering that one of the founders of this organization is a very close relative of yours." Agent Stone handed over a sheet of paper. "I'm sure you'll recognize her -- Naomi Sandburg." 

Blair paled, but hesitantly accepted the paper and began looking it over. After a few moments, he glanced worriedly up at Jim and then handed him the paper. "This is...this is crazy." 

Jim noticed right away the increase in Sandburg's heartbeat. He knew that the rapid beat could have nothing at all to do with any foreknowledge of Naomi's alleged activities. Blair would be upset over his mother even being accused of any wrongdoing -- especially when the accusations are coming from the FBI. The senior detective remained calm and defiantly cool as he surveyed the information and handed it off to Simon Banks. 

"Are you saying that you are unaware of your mother's association with this group, Mr. Sandburg?" 

"Well, no...I-I mean yes. I-I am unaware," Blair stuttered, appearing totally off-balance. It seemed obvious to Jim that his partner was at the very least surprised and perplexed by this revelation. "In fact," he began again in a steadier voice. "I really don't believe a word of that." He gestured to the paper now in Simon's hands. "My mom would never do anything violent. She's totally against violence, man." 

"When is the last time you spoke with Naomi Sandburg?" Agent Stone asked bluntly. 

"Uhh..." he bristled for a moment and then seemed to calm as he looked at the detective seated next to him. "A few weeks ago, I think? I talked to her on the phone." 

Jim Ellison rolled his eyes, distinctly remembering the telephone conversation Blair had with Naomi just a few days earlier. One of the reasons it stuck out in his mind is because he remembered Blair being unnerved and out-of-sorts, afterwards. Now, Jim was seeing that little ordeal in a whole new light and he wondered just exactly what Naomi had said to Blair. And what was up with him now? Could his partner really be so naive as to think for a minute that the Feds don't already know whether he talked with Naomi or not. Sandburg, he thought, this is not a good time for obfuscation. He cleared his throat. "Chief?" 

"We have records indicating that you spoke with her three days ago." Agent Stone handed him another sheet of paper. 

"Oh," Blair laughed nervously and shrugged at Jim. "I guess I forgot about that." 

Jim would have to remember to pummel the younger man appropriately for that one, later, when they got home. However, he'd had enough of the cat and mouse game they were playing. He wanted to know what the hell was going on and, more importantly, if they were trying to implicate Blair in some way. "Look," he suddenly interrupted, leaning forward in his chair with an accusatory expression of his own. "What exactly is the point in all of this? If you know as much as you're availing to, then you should know that my partner has absolutely nothing to do with any sort of subversive organization or activity." 

With a raised eyebrow, the senior agent studied the detective for a long moment and then his expression became what could be called more compliant and he began leafing through his paperwork again. "We're not accusing Detective Sandburg of anything, Detective Ellison. We're simply trying to locate Naomi Sandburg and a handful of other members of her group." The agent handed another document to Jim. "This is a list of high ranking officials and other governmental leaders from various countries around the world." 

Jim scanned the paper and looked up. "And?" 

"And, Detective, if you'll notice the two names at the top of the list have both been crossed out. These two leaders have both met with suspicious and untimely deaths in the past three weeks. This, gentlemen, is a hit list." The agent stood and began pacing the office. "This list was constructed and detailed by the supposedly peaceful activist group calling themselves Beings of Light." 

Jim shifted uneasily in his chair and glanced over at Blair, whom at the moment seemed more than a little confused and hadn't spoken a word in several minutes. Naomi a murderer? Jim almost laughed out loud at the very thought of it. "Are you saying Naomi Sandburg had something to do with these murders?" 

"Jim!" Blair turned toward him, his blue eyes wide with disbelief, making him look innocent and all of twelve years old. 

"Come on, Chief," Ellison attempted to placate, turning to his partner and placing a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "We need to know exactly what we're up against here." 

"My mother would never..." 

"Mr. Sandburg, at the moment your mother is wanted for questioning. The group she belongs to has taken responsibility for the murders, not to mention made a number of threats. There is a new and younger, more radical extremist faction in the group. Frankly, and this is my opinion -- off the record," the agent paused for emphasis, "I doubt that any of the original members have anything to do with the more violent nature of the recent activities. Ms. Sandburg and a few of the other originals have been a pain in a lot of asses, but always in a non-violent way. Right now, they're simply guilty by association. It's important that we find them, for our good as well as their own." 

Jim watched Blair struggle through the meeting, watched his emotions flitting from one end of the scale to the other. He doubted that Blair had any idea where his mother was. Sometimes it took weeks for him to track Naomi down. The most he'd be able to do is to leave messages and wait for her to contact him. The agents seemed not at all pleased by this. "Mr. Sandburg, you understand that your mother's life is quite possibly in danger from this faction of her group?" The agent asked pointedly for about the tenth time. 

"Yes," Blair answered again. "I-I just don't know what else I can do." 

Simon, who had remained uncharacteristically quiet -- yet observant -- jumped in at one point to attest to the fact that Naomi was next to impossible to get a hold of. Finally, after several rounds of ending up with the same conclusion, the agents evidently decided they had gotten all of the information they were going to get. 

Jim had kept a close eye on his partner throughout the lengthy meeting and Blair was a bundle of nervous energy by the time they were sent home by Simon. Early on in the meeting, both men had agreed to allow the FBI a "look around their premises". Previous experience had prepared Jim for the probability that the loft would look like a tornado went through it. Jim hoped that some of Blair's excess energy could be harnessed and spent on the major cleaning project they were likely facing. 

~*~ 

"Jim, you do believe me, don't you? Because, I swear to you that I don't know anything about this...this group, or whatever it is, man! I swear! Naomi has never mentioned anything about being in any kind of organization like that." Rambling, he knew that he was rambling, but he couldn't for the life of him, make himself shut up -- not even long enough to let his partner get a single word in. "I just can't believe it, you know? I mean...how could she have this whole other life that I'm totally unaware of? I know she used to march and protest and that whole routine, but this, man...this is different. I mean it's not that different, but still it's my own mother is some enigma that I really don't know at all." 

Without taking his eyes off of the road as he drove, Jim reached over, giving his anxious partner a reassuring squeeze on the back of his neck. "Okay, okay Chief. Just settle down. Right now we need to keep our heads on straight. You need to keep your head on straight, for Naomi's sake. From what the Feds told us today, she could be in some serious trouble here." 

"Jim, I don't know what to do," Blair whispered sadly, his demeanor once again on the other end of the scale. 

Jim simply nodded, wishing that he could do something more. All he was able to do at the moment is be there for Blair. On more than one occasion, he'd admit to no one but himself, he'd felt an almost irresistible urge to throttle Naomi Sandburg. As much as he believed her innocent of these accusations and as much as he'd like to help her out, his main priority right now -- as always -- was Naomi's son, his partner and best friend. 

The rest of the drive home was spent in an awkward silence. Both men feeling out of sorts and uncertain of what to say. Jim, not wanting to waste time and effort with mere platitudes and Blair, dueling with the fear of rambling and being absorbed in thought. As Jim turned off the engine, he reached over to stop Blair before he opened the passenger door. "Chief, you heard Simon. The Feds were up there. The place is probably trashed." 

"Yeah, man. I know." Blair settled back into the seat, suddenly not seeming so anxious to get out of the truck. "Jim? Do you think she's okay?" 

Jim let out a long breath while he pulled the key out of the ignition. "Chief...Blair, I wish more than anything buddy, that I could tell you something substantial, but hell, in all honesty, I really don't know. I have no idea. God, I'm sorry. I wish I did." 

"I know, Jim," Blair smiled faintly. "And you have nothing to be sorry for, man. I would have probably lost it back there if you hadn't been there with me. Thanks." 

"Chief, right now all we can do is hope that information the Feds gave us, is true. They think Naomi and her little group is hiding out, laying low. So, we gotta believe that she's safe somewhere." 

Blair nodded, attempting to reconcile this in his mind. "I just wish I knew for sure that she was okay." 

"Come on, let's go see what kind of damage those bastards did on our home," Jim said, giving his partner a weak punch in the shoulder before climbing out of the truck. He walked around to Blair's side and draped an arm across the smaller man's shoulders. "I'll just bet that Naomi's hiding out in some obscure little place, probably in some country I've never even heard of. You know one of those tiny countries with no vowels in the spelling?" Jim paused and Blair chuckled. 

"Nah, she prefers the countries with no consonants." 

"Yeah?" Jim gave his partner an expression of amazement, followed by thoughtful contemplation. "Well, I hear that." 

Blair snickered as they entered the loft. 

"She's probably gossiping with all of her 'Save the World' friends," Jim continued, "burning sage and roasting marshmallows and listening to Yanni." 

Blair couldn't help but laugh, because Jim's description was so easy to picture in his mind. 

~*~ 

Later, in his room, Blair's mind wandered as he stared vacantly at the tattered stuffed bear he'd had since childhood. It was undamaged and he was fairly certain that it's contents remained intact. He remembered his mother's instructions when she had presented him with the bear. It had all seemed terribly exciting at first, being the young adventurous boy that he'd been at the time, but as the years went by the excitement dwindled and now it was all just...there. 

"You need to take very good care of this teddy bear, darling. He's a very special bear and if the time ever comes..." The time. Man, he hoped this wasn't "the time". It seemed like a lifetime ago that Naomi had given him the bear. "Sweetie, if the time comes..." "Blair, we just need to be prepared in case the time comes..." He'd never really understood her meaning when she'd refer to "the time". It had seemed like a story, a fairy tale, like a wonderful adventure whenever his mother would go over it with him. Naomi lived for adventure; that's how she had always grasped life -- one adventure after another. That's how she still grasped life. 

God, it all made sense now. He knew in his heart that everything that the FBI agents had told him today was more than likely the result of one of his mother's adventures and he knew why Naomi had asked about the bear the other day on the phone. She hadn't expressed the need for any action on Blair's part. She'd only questioned him about the bear and the little pact they'd made all those years ago. Blair hadn't pressed the subject; it wasn't one he liked to think about any longer. 

"If the time ever comes, I'll give you a signal..." He hoped on one hand, that he'd hear from his mother soon. He needed to know she was safe. On the other hand, he prayed that he would not get the cryptic "signal" that Naomi had worked out with him. He really shouldn't have to worry about this. He wasn't a little boy anymore; he was a man. A cop, in fact. It's not like he could just take off. He had a job and responsibilities. What about Jim? He couldn't just leave Jim. She couldn't really just expect him to leave everything, could she? Not now; not anymore. 

Sorry Naomi, but this is my home, my life. Leaving it all is...it's just...out of the question. I'm not leaving. But, what if she was in danger? What if she needed him? Suddenly feeling angry, he thought about ripping open the stupid bear and finally exposing the secret contents. An inkling of rationality made him reconsider -- maybe he should give it to Jim, tell him the whole story and let him figure out what to do with it. Or he could just get rid of it, throw it in the garbage and be done with it. Finally, he sighed in resignation and placed it back in the corner of shelf where it had been before the agents had searched the loft. 

"Hey Chief, how's it coming?" 

Jim's soft voice startled Blair and he turned quickly. "Way to give a guy a heart attack, Jim." 

"Sorry about that," he offered sincerely and then cleared his throat. The room was pretty close to its normal state of disarray. The kid on the other hand, was looking even more pitiful than he had when he'd begun cleaning it up, so Jim figured it was time to bust him out of solitary. "Looking pretty good in here. How about coming out and giving me a hand with the rest of the place?" 

"Oh...I don't know Jim. I'm pretty beat. I was thinking that maybe I should just lie down and rest awhile. Take a little nap." He yawned for emphasis. 

"Get your ass out here, Sandburg," Jim growled, grabbing a belt loop and hauling him through the doorway. "I tell ya what, you can have the bathroom. It looks like they left it in better shape than you did this morning." 

"Very funny, Detective. In case you don't remember the events of the morning...you, my friend, were the last one in the bathroom." 

~*~ 

It had taken several hours to get the loft back into shape and now, after having eaten a light dinner, the two men were relaxed on the couch, watching a Jackie Chan movie. Jim was watching Jackie Chan; Blair, on the other hand, couldn't stop thinking about his mother and the latest predicament she had gotten herself into. Berating himself for being selfish, he couldn't help but wonder what kind of an impact this all would have on his life. 

It wasn't as if he thought that he had no other choice but to go to Naomi if she called, like he was programmed to do so. True, as a child, in a way he had been programmed to do so. It had been drilled into his brain, like Pavlov's dog. But now...now, he didn't feel the same need and it was tearing him in two just to think about it. He didn't need to go to her, didn't want to - but she was his mother. Did he owe her that? If she called, would it be wrong of him to say he couldn't go? Would she be so bold to ask him to leave Jim and his life here? She had to know that if given the choice, he'd already chosen Jim and his life in Cascade. He was an adult; his priorities were different now, different from hers. Unlike Naomi, Blair didn't like gallivanting around the world anymore. He hadn't for a long time, now. He noticed at some point in the past few years, that he liked -- in fact, he cherished -- this newly found stability, this new security. He cherished it all, his home, his job, his partner. Detective Jim Ellison: bad ass, Army Ranger, trained for Covert Ops, all-around tough guy, hero, Officer of the Year -- Jim was his security, his teddy bear now; the thought made him laugh. 

Jim glanced over at him with a soft, indulgent smile. Great, Blair thought, he's probably contemplating getting up to look through the phone book for the number of the nearest asylum. Blair smiled back. The reason...the real reason he worried over Naomi's call was not an issue of his needing to go to her, he knew that. It was more an issue of her needing him. What if she needed him? What would he do? He couldn't say no, could he? It wasn't his fault she'd gotten herself in over her head. God, that was cold, Sandburg! He thought about smacking himself in the head and wondered what would Jim do if he were in this situation. He wondered again about coming clean. Did he really want to get Jim involved in this? He was sort of involved already, but did Blair really want to put Jim in a position where he'd be forced to make a choice? If Blair found out where his mother was, would he let the feds know? For Naomi's own protection? What if Naomi knows about the people after her? He couldn't give out her location, he couldn't give his own mother away. 

Okay, okay, he finally made a decision -- of sorts. He'd wait and see. If she called, he'd tell Jim. 

~*~ 

"Chief. Blair." Blair felt a warm hand on his chest, felt himself being shaken gently. He willed his eyes to open and realized that he'd fallen asleep. The loft was dark, the television was off, and Jim was sitting beside him. "Come on, you don't want to sleep on the couch." 

"Jim? What time is it?" He yawned and stretched his arms over his head. He was lying down and couldn't remember when that had happened. He did, however, remember the earlier events of the day. 

"It's after midnight." Jim's hand remained on his chest, making him feel...connected, somehow. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep on you." 

"It's okay. You had a rough day." His hand moved up and he brushed a few unruly strands of hair out of Blair's face, then rested it on the juncture of his neck and shoulder. 

"When I was a little kid..." Blair began, not even knowing where the words were coming from. "I was about four years old and Naomi bought me this teddy bear." 

Jim nodded silently, his features relaxed. 

"She told me if the time ever came...if we weren't together and the time came, that we needed to get away...someplace safe, I guess...she said that she would get a message to me, somehow. We had a code word and everything," Blair laughed. "Actually, I thought it was really exciting at the time, like spy kind of stuff, you know?" 

He glanced up at his partner and could tell that Jim's face wasn't quite as relaxed as it had been a moment ago. Blair noticed that his jaw was now a little tense. Noticed his throat muscles contract as he swallowed hard and nodded. "Anyway, when she asked me about the bear on the phone the other day...I guess I kinda freaked a little because...well, she always said that when the time came somehow she'd get a message to me and then I was supposed to..." Blair looked up, suddenly uncertain. 

"...and I don't want to anymore Jim," he whispered. An overwhelming sense of anxiety swept over him. Jim's hand remained on him, warm and steady and reassuring. His thumb brushed lightly back and forth across Blair's throat. He couldn't remember what he had been planning to say, could barely remember the point. A thousand thoughts were running through his head and all he knew was that he wanted to tell Jim everything and his brain didn't even know where to start. He wanted to tell him about the stuffed bear and the impending message. He wanted to confess, to come clean and then have Jim miraculously make it all better. Jim always made things better, or maybe it wasn't really only Jim, maybe it was the two of them working together -- as partners? He felt serenity, a sense of peace as he contemplated this revelation and when he looked up and into those crystal blue eyes that were so familiar to him, he saw the very same peace and serenity mirrored back at him. It dawned on him that most importantly, he wanted to -- he needed to -- make it perfectly clear to Jim that his trust, his faith and his loyalty, that everything he had to give belonged to Jim; it would always belong to Jim. That no matter what happened, no matter what obstacles arose for either one of them, that this was the life he wanted. This was life, right here and right now with Jim and after four years of good times and bad, of sickness and health, of psychos and automobile chases, bombs, gunfights and Jags games he finally, finally got it! And it suddenly felt like all of the oxygen had been sucked from the universe. 

"Breathe." 

And Blair did and he felt a huge weight lift from his chest and then, Jim's mouth warm and moist over his. Jim -- his Jim -- was kissing him and it was so good, so right. It was tender and hot and absolutely perfect. It was everything Blair had ever wanted, everything he'd ever need. It was life and living. It was strong and safe, solid and steadfast. And he knew that no matter what -- he would always have Jim. Jim was security and family and home and from now on everything would somehow turn out all right. 

And as he opened his mouth to Jim and shuddered at the sensation of their tongues softly caressing each other, he realized that Jim -- that _this_ \-- had always been there and he couldn't believe that he was just now noticing. The unobservant observer, always observing everyone else, yet blind to what had been happening all this time right before his eyes. How could he _not_ have known? 

~*~ 

And as Jim reveled in the sweet, intimate taste of Blair, he thanked the spirits, the voice of prescience or whoever it was that had spoken assurances to him in that dream, because Jim had always known. 

End note: Kimberly attempted to talk me through the animal/spirit guide details and we sort compromised in the end. <g> Any and all inaccuracies are entirely my fault. 


End file.
